Sou
by Nyaa
Summary: A little drabble, sortta kaidoh POV


Theirs wasn't love. He didn't really know what it was in the first place. Maybe there weren't many categories for love, and theirs was too different to fit into any. They don't hold lingering gazes when they pass each other in the hallways. They never touched each other nor talked much, save for the cursory nods and greetings when they met along the corridor or during training. At times, while he leans against the desk, letting his mind wander away from the teacher droning on about Meji restoration, he would wonder how real everything was. It could have been a dream for all he knew.  
  
And yet, the moments when they were alone, when feelings would pour out into actions, and fingers danced on slick skin, he knows it's what everything is, because dreams could never give him such ecstasy, never treat him to a set of eyes that held so much unspoken respect and desire; Eyes that were a pool of darkness, which held another look that he couldn't place, but nevertheless always made him squirm just a little.  
  
Even as they lay in each other's arms, they never spoke much to each other. Words had never came to both as easily as it did to others-- one practically a social recluse, the other spouting equations and statistics more often than actual sentences. He often wondered how it happened in the first place.  
  
Maybe it was the many times that he felt that gaze lingered on his body as he practiced by the river, or the gentle guidance of arms along his, the voice low and deep against his back. Pent up emotions (and lust) could only be bottled for so long, and for one as silent as him, outlets of expression could only take a different form. A sudden storm caught them both in a telephone booth, mouths against each other for five seconds before he bolted out in terror at what he had done. Thereafter, everything happened like a row of dominoes, each event tipping the next to reach the one after, falling neatly into place. From the chase through the street in the rain, to the house where he was toweled dry, from secret kisses at the backyard of the school, to him gasping as Inui's fingers explored his body further than in the last. Everything, a continuous and smooth progression that was bringing him further from the start and closer to the end, except it was an endless line, and while he could barely see the first block that started the chain reaction, the last one wasn't in sight either.  
  
As the falling tiles of events trailed further, there was a time of awkward silences and hurried exits out of the house, of not knowing what social protocols were required when one who wakes up in bed naked with another. And then, he grew used to just enjoying the slight weight of an arm around his body, an occasionally restless nose rubbing against the nape of his neck or teeth gently marking his shoulders. In the privacy of their rooms, it was always quiet, except for occasions where Inui would start teasing him with seemingly innocent talk, if not for the sheer amount of innuendo in them making him turn red in the face. He knew it was his partner's sadistic sense of humour at work, as if putting another through blushing fits was an entirely normal way to show one's affection. Other times, it was a parody of a lullaby, running ridiculous equations by his ear and inducing the worst headaches he ever got. However, he hardly did anything to discourage it. He hated equations, he hated being embarrassed, but he didn't hate Inui's voice. Once, he found himself wondering, even wanting, on a spur of the moment, to hear the three words of "I love you" from Inui. It didn't make sense to him, and he did admit it was a ridiculously *girly* notion. He liked Inui, and Inui liked him; their affections were mutual, both were in perfect understanding of that. Wasn't it enough? And yet, he couldn't help but wonder, if those three cursed words would seal their relationship, like an official stamp on a certificate, making it more real than the dream it felt like sometimes.  
  
He didn't understand that theirs was love; just that it was still evolving. Love never had and didn't need categories, it just existed, running through time and stages, growing in different ways for some, and dying in different ways for others. Perhaps one day, he wouldn't need to hear the words anymore, because those warm afternoons in bed together would have been a passing memory, and both would continue their separate ways in life. Or perhaps, just maybe, he'd realize he how useless they were, because love can be proven and sealed in other ways. However, that time was not for now, although the sweeping waves of events were leading them there. Cocooned against Inui's chest and letting lazy fingers run through his dark hair, his fingers tightened against Inui's other hand ever so slightly. 


End file.
